


Old Mugs and Full Shelves

by shinyopals



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Hopeful angst, Jane Foster Loves Science, POV Thor (Marvel), Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, begrudgingly canon compliant, bite me marvel, jane and thor are tagged 'it's complicated' on facebook, the mcu sucked at writing thor, thor has had a really rough few years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 21:52:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18669088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyopals/pseuds/shinyopals
Summary: ‘I… wanted to see… if you were all right.’ There’s some truth to that. That Jane is well is sometimes the only thing.Jane stares up at him. ‘It’s beenfive years,’ she says. And she’s right.After the events of Endgame, Thor visits Jane.





	Old Mugs and Full Shelves

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Hariboo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hariboo) for giving it a read through to check I hadn't done anything egregiously wrong. I haven't actually seen Endgame - but I've read spoilers, and I just wanted _someone_ to take Thor seriously, so in the absence of TPTB doing that, here I am I guess.
> 
> Obviously **spoilers for Endgame** contained within. Not just for Thor's role in the movie, but for other bits too.

He’s already knocked on the door before he remembers he doesn’t even know if she still lives here.

He should have written - called - emailed - _something_ to request a moment of her time. Not shown up on her doorstep empty handed, without even knowing if it’s her doorstep. But then, what would he have said?

His heart’s in his throat at the sound of footsteps inside and he tells himself it’ll be a relief if she’s moved out, moved away, and he just has to apologise to a stranger. Maybe sign an autograph. Then leave. Leave and go back to wherever else he might go.

The door opens. 

She’s there. 

She’s fidgeting a pen in her fingers, her eyes in some faraway place right up until she realises who he is.

‘Thor,’ she says, focussing immediately, running her gaze over him and taking in every detail. He almost steps back, suddenly exposed. He’s not the man he was, and he for the first time remembers she’ll see that.

‘Hello Jane,’ he says at last.

‘What are you doing here?’

It’s not encouraging. But then, why would it be?

She hasn’t changed much. He somehow feels like he’s changed more, aged more, though that’s impossible. But she’s still there in her mismatched socks, rumpled jeans, and patterned shirt. This one’s several shades of blue, lines criss-crossing over it that almost, but not quite, hide the ink stains on her cuffs. Her hair’s a little shorter, lying loosely over her shoulders. She’s wearing her glasses. Thin blue metal frames about her eyes. He’d been there with her when she’d first gotten the test and discovered she needed them, six years before.

 _Too much screen use_ , the optician had said. And Jane had scowled and said she looked at distant objects plenty often enough, thank-you-very-much, but that hadn’t changed anything. Thor had helped her pick out the frames, and smiled and told her she was beautiful and let her sulk. 

And then that night, he’d lay awake, his heart tight and stomach twisting because she was _getting older without him_. And then the next day he’d had to leave, again, on his futile search for the Infinity Stones, not able to promise when or even if he’d return.

The pen in her hands twitches and he realises that he hasn’t answered her question. It’s a question he doesn’t know the answer to, not yet, but he can hardly stand in silence forever.

‘I… wanted to see… if you were all right.’ There’s some truth to that. That Jane is well is sometimes the only thing.

Jane stares up at him. ‘It’s been _five years_ ,’ she says. And she’s right.

‘I’m sorry. I meant to come back before now-’

‘Oh, forget it,’ she says, sighing deeply and waving a hand. She turns. Thor’s heart sinks. But then: ‘Are you coming in?’

He follows her and closes the door carefully behind him. The brightness of the street vanishes to become the house he knows like the back of his hand. He places Stormbreaker carefully in the spot where Mjolnir used to rest. Five and a half years since he lived here too. Five years since he’d last been here - one visit, in the aftermath of Thanos’s snap, just to check, because he couldn’t bear not knowing. It turned out he couldn’t bear knowing either. Her mother died that day, even if she hadn’t. Her mother who now must have returned to a new and confusing world, some five years younger than she ought to be.

The main quarters are almost exactly as he remembers them, but not quite. The mess remains. The books and papers and computers and telescopes that form Jane’s satellites wherever she goes are familiar. Diagrams and pictures are pinned to any empty walls. However, the shelves and spaces that used to be Thor’s books and DVDs and pictures and souvenirs of life on a brand new realm are gone: the space filled with her things instead. Of course. It is her house. Five and a half years ago it was their house, but now it’s hers.

‘How’s your work?’ he asks.

‘Really? Five years later and… _really_?’

He hesitates. ‘I should like to know,’ he says at last. It’s no lie. Jane without her work isn’t Jane. If her work is going well, then she is happy, and perhaps knowing that will sooth some part of him.

‘It’s been a weird few years,’ she says after a moment’s contemplation. ‘I kept looking for the Infinity Stones, even after you… left. But then, everyone… and nothing seemed to matter for a while.’ She sucks in a breath and squares her shoulders. ‘I got back to it, of course. What else can you do?’

It’s a stab to the heart in some ways, but then, she’s always been braver than him, fearing nothing in a world where everything can harm her. ‘What indeed?’ he says. 

She looks at him sharply. ‘Why are you really here?’

‘I did want to see if you’re all right,’ he says. Still true without being the whole truth. ‘I didn’t mean to-’

‘I guess five years for you isn’t that long at all,’ she interrupts, and he flinches, because _that’s why-_ ‘Shit, I didn’t mean- this wasn’t meant to start a fight.’ She scowls, but it’s the scowl she makes when her math is incorrect, so it’s not at him, not really. It’s more at herself. ‘Sorry,’ she adds.

‘You’ve nothing to apologise for. I, on the other hand-’

‘Don’t- not right now,’ she interrupts again. Then she pulls in a deep breath and runs her hands through her hair, shifting on her feet. ‘Look. I’m going to make some coffee. Do you want a cup? And I was going to run through this lecture I’m giving next week. I could use a viewer and some feedback, if you’ve got an hour?’

A peace offering. An easy way out. An hour of calm and company that he doesn’t deserve, but he’ll take.

‘Yes, please,’ he says, to both. He sits on his end of the couch, although the cushions don’t quite fit him like they used to when he’d curl up with her beside him for a quiet evening in.

As Jane bustles in the kitchen he continues to cast his eyes about the house that isn’t his. The little shelf where he used to leave his vambraces has books now. Her Nobel medal is where he used to keep three small houseplants - chosen to not need water often so when he fought with the Avengers Jane did not have to remember to tend to them. The wall where he had hung a portrait of his family is now bare but for the print-outs - black numbers on a white background, with scrawled notes and highlights.

His stomach churns. _This was a mistake._ He should go. There is no longer room for him here. It’s Jane’s house.

But then she’s back, hands outstretched with a huge mug of coffee. It’s a mug she has never once used, because it’s too big for her. It was always his mug.

She puts her own coffee on a pile of papers on the table, wrestles her computer from beneath a knot of cables, and sits beside Thor as she searches for her slides. She’s got that crossly self-conscious look on her face that she always does before she gives a lecture to anyone. She still can’t believe anyone is listening, after all this time.

Thor makes up his mind and stays.

In fact, he sits up straighter, and reaches for the coffee table to search for a notepad and pen. She prefers no interruptions when she practices her lectures. She’d rather he write down his questions for later.

‘Oh,’ says Jane, as she realises what he’s doing. ‘There should be-’ She leans forward too, helping the search.

They both spot the pen at the same moment, and brush against each other’s hands as they try to take it. A beat. One that lasts just a moment too long with her warm skin against his.

Jane drops the pen. ‘Thanks,’ she says. ‘I’m glad you remember.’ She ducks her gaze and then turns back to her computer screen. He must be imagining that her cheeks are pink. ‘This lecture’s aimed at all audiences. It’s a summary of the last five years of wormhole advancements. A few universities have banded together to do a series from, uh, leading experts. They’ll be filmed and made available online for, you know, everyone who came back.’

‘They move fast,’ comments Thor, making a test scribble with the pen, for it never pays to assume. ‘It’s been only a month.’

‘Yeah, well, they’ve got to, haven’t they?’

It would be so simple, as she talks, to just watch her. Even sitting on her battered couch, legs crossed, pausing to slurp coffee strong enough that even he considers it poisonous, she _shines_. She always has. Any self consciousness and awkwardness fall away as she speaks of the universe. Her eyes are bright and keen. Her words are precise and confident. He could watch her speak all day just for the smiles she gives as she describes how everything fits together.

He listens carefully, though. She has asked for his opinion on her work. There are few compliments greater, from Jane. 

And it’s still _so easy_. He’s back there, six years ago, before he made every mistake it was possible to make. Something inside of him uncurls, just a little. 

When Jane finishes, he smiles at her, mirroring her own smile. It’s a good lecture, and she knows it. 

‘I like it,’ he says.

‘And?’

He consults his notepad. ‘You lost me for a moment when you spoke of the Brantz-Yortoff equations,’ he says.

She wrinkles her nose. It’s precious and he suddenly wants to reach for her. ‘Too technical?’

He nods. ‘Too technical,’ he echoes.

‘Anything else?’

‘I think you could spend longer on black holes.’ He gives her a tentative smile. ‘From what I remember, they’re a subject even those who know little of astrophysics enjoy.’

She nods seriously and taps through her slides. ‘Black holes are cool,’ she says.

He swishes the dregs of his coffee about as she makes her changes. It’s a comfortable scene. She works. He half watches her, thinking through her words and her lecture. It’s a nicer thought than near anything else that’s occupied his mind lately.

Then he hears her sniff, sees her screw her eyes shut suddenly.

‘Jane?’

She swallows. ‘I’m- I just- suddenly thought-’ She breaks off again, swallows, shakes her head and blinks furiously. ‘I forgot, and I thought maybe I’d send this to- to Tony and see what he thinks, and then- I remembered-’ She breaks off again, as this time as her voice wobbles uncontrollably, and she furiously wipes tears from her eyes.

Thor doesn’t think. He reaches for her. 

It’s only after his arms are around her that he remembers this isn’t his house, and she is not his girlfriend. Jane, however, must be momentarily as much in the past as he is. She leans into him and curls her hands through his hair, holding him in place. 

Safe for the moment, his own well of grief bubbles up from long-suppressed depths.

For Tony, who’d saved them. For Steve, who he won’t see again. For Natasha, who gave everything. For his mother, his father, his _brother_. For Heimdall and Volstagg, Fandral and Hogun and near everyone else in the realm of his birth.

He lets out a ragged sob before he can stop himself, then wipes his eyes with the same ferocity Jane did her own. He has no right to lay his grief at her feet.

‘God, what would Tony say if he saw us crying over him?’ says Jane, pulling back. Her eyes are wet, but there’s almost a smile on her face.

‘Probably “quite right, too”,’ says Thor, his own lips curving up as he thinks of his friend.

She laughs and wipes her eyes again. 

He wants to take her in his arms again. To lean on her, exactly like he hasn’t for so long. He doesn’t dare, however, for the moment has passed, so instead they sit in silence for a few moments.

‘Why are you really here, Thor?’ says Jane at last.

His breath catches in his throat. But of course, he owes her an answer. This is the third time she’s asked and he still doesn’t have one for himself.

The silence stretches. 

Eventually he finds words, but they’re disordered, messy, not right. ‘I thought after it was over, after we killed him, after we brought everyone back… I thought it would be better.’ She frowns, not quite following him because it is better, of course it is. ‘I thought _I_ would be better,’ he says at last. ‘Instead, I’m…’ _Lost? Alone? No one?_ He still doesn’t have the words.

‘And you want me to fix you?’ There’s an acerbity back in her voice all of a sudden, because _he’s_ the one who couldn’t cope with loving a mortal woman, even if she’s the one who ended it and told him to leave because of that. And he did leave. He left her with gaps on the walls and in the shelves that she’s filled with herself and left no space for him.

‘No, I want- I wanted to go back. I’m sorry. You’ve always been kinder to me than I deserve. I only wished for a moment of your company, to remember what was.’

‘Thor, we can’t go back,’ she says. The irritation has left her voice, at least. ‘And showing up here for an hour to listen to me talk isn’t going to make you feel better.’

‘It has,’ he says. ‘Jane, so few of those I love survived. I’m glad you’re still... hard at work.’ He attempts to smile, but all he manages his to twist up the corner of his lips.

Jane jolts at his words, but suppresses her reaction. Perhaps he should not have said “love”, but it’s no less true for their years apart. 

‘Of course I am,’ she says at last. ‘What would I do if I weren’t?’ He envies her certainty. He thought he would be King, or an Avenger. Maybe he’ll be a Guardian of the Galaxy, but it’s too soon for him to claim that title. ‘We still can’t go back to how things were.’

‘I know,’ he says. ‘Perhaps it was just on my mind because of what we did last month.’

‘Oh, yeah, Bryn said you guys did a lot of time travel,’ says Jane. Thor sees the part of her that’s immediately forgotten anything deeper than how to travel in time. He loves it and hates it both sometimes. But of course, he has questions of his own-

‘“Bryn”?’ he asks.

‘You know: Brunnhilde. Valkyrie. Seems the Asgardians are struggling to figure out Earth stuff. So Sif brought her to dinner and after I’ve done with my lectures next week I’m going to New Asgard for a couple of weeks to help with the cultural assimilation. Well, sort of. Darcy’s probably going to be better at it than me, but I do know more about Asgard than pretty much everyone else on Earth.’

‘You call her _Bryn_?’ says Thor. It’s a foolish thing to focus on, but everything else is too much.

‘Is that really that important?’ demands Jane. ‘It’s Sif’s nickname for her, not mine! Now tell me about how time travel works!’

He opens and shuts his mouth. ‘Jane, I- I saw my mother. I wanted to see you. We were on Asgard when you had the Aether. But there wasn’t… time.’

Her expression changes, the brightness of discovery replaced with a confused frown, then: ‘A… raccoon… _borrowed_ the Aether from me. Steve Rogers returned it.’

‘That sounds right,’ says Thor.

Jane lets out a breath and sits back on the couch. ‘Why didn’t I remember this before?’

‘I don’t think it had happened yet,’ says Thor.

‘That makes no sense at all. Of course it happened. It- Wait, you saw your mom?’

He nods slowly. ‘I did. She helped me then. But… I thought I was done with my grief for my family. You helped me then. And I-’ He shrugs. He’s asking too much that she help him again, but this is Jane.

‘I remember,’ says Jane. Her voice is soft. She shifts towards him, takes his hand. He stares at her hand as she does because he can’t quite believe it, but there she is. Ten years ago she’d held his hand every day. Ten years ago she’d listened to his grief. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says at last. ‘To see her again must have been hard.’

‘It was,’ he says. ‘But I wouldn’t change that. One last chance to talk to her. I wouldn’t give that up, not for anything. But now everything’s over and I-’

_I don’t know who I am any more._

That’s it, isn’t it? Almost everything and everyone he’s known all his life is dead or destroyed, and stopping Thanos hasn’t brought it all back, hasn’t stopped the despair that surrounds him when he thinks of his family or those friends he lost. When he thinks of what he could have done - _should_ have done - to save them.

Jane, who always knows who she is, sighs, but she doesn’t drop his hand.

‘Thor, I don’t want to look back,’ she says at last, reaffirming the stab to his heart and he freezes.

‘Of course, I should never have-’ His voice is stiff. He can’t help it. She owes him nothing, but he should not have come.

‘I’m forty-two, next year,’ she says to him. 

‘I shouldn’t have-’

‘Thor, can you give me a minute, to talk? I need to get the words right. You know I’m bad at getting the words right. Please.’

He shuts his mouth and waits. His heart is hammering.

‘I’m nearly forty-two,’ she says again. ‘The glasses prescription got stronger, by the way. I’ve got grey hairs and a few more wrinkles. And I _know_ it was never about how I looked,’ she says, as he begins to shift uncomfortably. ‘I don’t blame you, you know that? If I got in a relationship with someone who had six months to live I’m not saying I wouldn’t freak out either. But I’m still forty-two next year, and that isn’t going to change. In five years time, if you come and find me again because you want to remember, we’re not going to be able to keep pretending.’

He watches as she twists the cuff of her shirt in her hands.

‘I know,’ he says at last. ‘I just- I did not know what to do.’

Jane sucks in a breath. He thinks she’s going to speak so he waits. The quiet stretches on, almost to breaking, until he can no longer bear it and he’s just forming some words in his own head when-

‘Can we… go forward… instead, please Thor?’ She’s speaking quietly.

‘What does that mean?’

‘I don’t know,’ she admits. She ducks her head back to continue to pull at her shirt. She’s going to have the button off if she’s not careful. ‘I don’t know if we could be friends, or-’ The button goes flying. Thor snatches it out of the air and presents it back to her, and in doing so lets go of her hand. He wishes he hadn’t. ‘Um. Thanks. But I’d like us to be friends.’

He wants to say “or what?” but thinks that might be pushing it.

‘I’d like that,’ he says. His voice seems unsteady, threatening to break.

‘Would you?’ she says.

‘Of course, I would!’

‘I’m going to die in another forty or fifty years,’ she says flatly. Her words jar, spiking through blooming hope. ‘I’ll be your friend, or- or- whatever, Thor. I want to be in your life. I missed you. But I won’t be in it forever. And I won’t- pick up the pieces after you leave again. You need to decide if you can deal with us, whatever we are.’

Thor twists his hands together. She’s right to demand it of him. He doesn’t know how to answer her. He’s come to her because he doesn’t have any answers and she’s always been so good at providing them, but this is a question he’ll have to face alone. 

He thought defeating Thanos would help. He thought going with the Guardians would help. He thought coming to Jane would help. So far, he’s still empty. Perhaps a little less so, but he still feels he’s got no purchase on this unfamiliar ground.

Then Jane reaches to take his hand again, solid and familiar. ‘You don’t have to immediately figure it out,’ she says. ‘Look, come find me on New Asgard a week Friday. Right now it’s too- we’re too- I still have your _mug_.’ His lips quirk that she noticed too. ‘If you want in, we’ll figure out a future, whatever it looks like.’

He settles the date in his mind.

‘Thank you, Jane. It is more than I deserve.’

‘No it’s not,’ says Jane simply. She breathes out and furrows her brows and suddenly looks as one who has the responsibility for an unpleasant truth. ‘I love you, you know. I want you to be happy. Tell me you’ve got somewhere to go?’

Could it really be that simple? ‘I… love you too, Jane Foster.’ _I never stopped. I made a mistake. Take me back. I was a fool._ But she doesn’t want that, not now. ‘I’ll go back to the Guardians, stay on their ship.’ They’re still new to Thor, and he to them. A strange little family of those with no one else, so he fits fine. ‘I think I may be becoming the adoptive father to a tree.’ He wants to reassure Jane he’ll be all right. He doesn’t know that he will, but something inside of him feels more solid for having seen her, for having known she wants to see him again.

Jane’s brow creases in a frown. ‘You know what, I have, just, like, so many questions,’ she says at last. ‘But you’re gonna have to go really soon because Darcy and Erik are going to get here and as the people who like, listened to my breakup rants, they are probably not your number one fans.’

‘Ah,’ says Thor. ‘That’s… fair.’

‘I’ll see you next week. Deal?’

The familiar question makes him smile. They can’t go back, she is right. But nor can they forget everything that made them _them_. ‘Deal,’ he replies, and it settles warmly in his stomach. A promise he wants to keep. A promise worth keeping.

‘Good,’ she says. ‘And tell the racoon I want my watch back. Now it’s all happened I know he didn’t need it!’

He can’t help but laugh, and it’s a real, joyful one. Perhaps, between the Guardians and Jane and the New Asgard, he’ll find a place for himself once more.


End file.
